


Bang Bang You’re Dead

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [56]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, spree killing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Magic-side hot calls always present new and interesting challenges for the members of the SRU.  But this particular call puts a magical twist on a sadly familiar theme as Team One races to halt a magic-side spree killer.  As the call heats up and escalates, the prejudice against Wild Magic collides with one simple truth: all humans bleed red.
Relationships: Kevin "Wordy" Wordsworth/Shelley Wordsworth
Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [56]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/538363
Comments: 28
Kudos: 11





	1. Ignition

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the fifty-sixth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Soul of a Gryphon".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

Fire exploded near the front of a room, drawing screams from the young occupants. The one older occupant lifted her weapon, trembling as she braced herself to protect her charges. A phoenix appeared out of the fire, three children clinging to the bird’s tail feathers. Paling, the woman hurried to the quartet, already shepherding the little ones to safety.

The girl refused to be pulled away from her rescuer until the beautiful violet phoenix turned her head and trilled encouragement.

“Come on, Claire,” the one of the boys cried. “Get away from it.” He made a face. “I thought it would take us to my brothers, not some random classroom.”

Claire’s head whipped around, a scowl appearing. “ _She’s_ protecting us.”

_Thump._

All heads turned towards the door, new screams of fear rising. “It’s _them_ ,” one of the girls wailed.

The phoenix hissed, crest rising as she fluttered, glaring balefully at the door.

Outside, a male voice yelled a curse; the door collapsed, falling back into the room with a _thud_. Two teenagers entered, vicious smiles glowing as they surveyed their latest targets. The blond raised his wand.

Piping challenge, the phoenix flew between the wizards and the children. As the other wizard hurled a curse, she _blurred_ ; sneakers thumped as their owner brought both hands up, shouting a spell of her own.

Violet magic blazed, forming a shield between the wizards and the room full of school children.

* * * * *

_2 hours earlier_

The two wizards appeared much like any wizards their own age. Young, eager; students learning one of the most unique crafts in the world. And despite their Muggle heritage, the pair had quickly outpaced most of their pureblood classmates, earning top honors for several years running. They had even been at the forefront of promoting the Techie Tournament, excited about the opportunity to _finally_ show their parents what they’d been learning.

It hadn’t worked out; Rick’s parents had flatly refused to go to the tournament, accusing their son of trying to brainwash them. Though the young brunet had _known_ his parents were far from happy about his magic, he hadn’t realized they thought he was _evil_. Hadn’t realized they regarded themselves as well shot of him and his _unnatural_ abilities. And Kyle’s father had promised to show up, then buried himself in a bottle the day of the competition; the heartbroken son had found his father in his favorite bar afterwards, so drunk that he’d fallen asleep as soon as the blond got him home.

Even then, the friends had been determined to keep going, to _prove_ to _both_ worlds that they were worth it. To _prove_ to their families that they were _worthwhile_. To _prove_ to the magicals that _Muggleborns_ were _just_ as valuable as _purebloods_. Worthy of respect, regard, and honor. They’d thrown themselves into Shiloh, learning, studying, and honing their abilities, striving to _excel_ and _prove_ their value.

But nothing changed; the purebloods still sneered, the half-bloods still eyed them warily, some on the Muggleborns’ side and most on the purebloods’ side, and their fellow Muggleborns seemed _content_ with the status quo. _Content_ with being relegated to Shiloh.

No laws changed – the school _still_ wouldn’t let Muggles come and visit. The quiet discrimination against Muggleborns continued. Shiloh was attacked, nearly destroyed, and _still nothing changed_. No one cared, no one noticed them; not their classmates, not the school, and certainly not their parents.

Then Lance and Alanna Calvin were kicked out of school.

Kyle read the newspaper articles aloud as Rick paced and _seethed_. Wild Magic, _ha_ , what a scam! As if; since _when_ did the _wizards_ care if some of their own had magic? No, no, no…both boys knew the truth; the Calvins had been targeted because they’d stepped out of line. Expelled because they’d tried to change things – because they’d tried to help _Muggleborns_.

No one else saw it; whispers, rumors, and stories swept the school, the purebloods peddling an utterly _absurd_ fairy tale about some British wannabe Dark Lord who’d caused a ruckus over a _thousand_ years ago. Seriously, get over it. Furious, the two wizards lobbied their teachers, trying to bring back the _only_ two purebloods who had actually tried to make a _difference_. In short order, the pair found themselves ostracized, considered outcasts even by their fellow Muggleborns. Even by those who still went to Shiloh. The cowards.

Growing ever more infuriated, Kyle and Rick dropped out of Shiloh and started planning. No one was doing anything to _make things change_. No one was _showing_ the purebloods just how _wrong_ they were. No one was even _trying_ any more. Sure, great, wonderful, they had Shiloh – but what about the school? What about _real life_? Were they supposed to just curl up and accept poverty level because of who their parents were? _Accept_ all the rampant prejudice, the sneering, the putdowns, and the _distinct_ message that they’d never amount to anything, so they might as well give up now.

Not a chance. It was time the purebloods got a taste of their own medicine – _Muggle_ style.

* * * * *

Kyle and Rick traded glances as they approached the outdoor class, one last check. Both wizards had their wands out, though the weapons were down – the better to keep any one from realizing what was about to happen.

“Ready?”

Rick’s face twisted into a snarl. “Born ready.”

The teacher glanced up from his lesson, faltering at the sight of two students who weren’t in his class. “Boys?” he asked. “Something I can help you with?”

Kyle smiled pleasantly – and brought his wand up. The silent curse sent the wizard flying, eyes going blank even before he hit the ground. The fourth years screamed.

Rick laughed, whipping sideways to send more curses at the _purebloods_. Kyle joined him after conjuring a barrier to keep their targets from running. One boy fought back, engaging Rick in an impromptu duel as he pushed two girls behind him. Laughing louder, Rick flourished his wand, then brought it across, Cutting Curses flying, four in a row. Two caught his target and the other two hit the fleeing girls.

Kyle casually finished off one last half-blood, then turned to his friend, ignoring the bloody, broken bodies around them. Past the scene, in the paddock, an ebony hippogriff whined, reaching over the fence with its beak for the dead teacher. “That’s one.”

The other boy’s brown eyes narrowed, hate flashing. “And a whole mess to go.”

“Guess we’d better get started.”


	2. Rollover

Claire Wordsworth hummed to herself as she headed for her locker to trade books for her next class. The eleven-year-old witch adjusted her shoulders, grateful her mother had _insisted_ on a techie backpack instead of the bookbags they’d seen in the magical shopping mall. Much easier to balance and with more nifty pockets to hide her pens and pencils. One of her older classmates had even helped her with the old-fashioned ink pen her father had purchased, making it much more like a _regular_ pen and easy to refill.

Her grades – a mix of O’s and EE’s – were helped along by her ready access to two older wizards willing to explain both spells and magical theory to the tech-born pureblood. A slight flush rose to Claire’s cheeks at the memory of Lance’s grin as he walked her through _Wingardium Leviosa_ , joking about the Wizard Baruffio who’d ended up with a buffalo on his chest.

“Claire!”

The brunette turned, smiling at the sight of Jonathon Amesbury, one of two friends she’d made so far. Jon was a pureblood, while her other friend, Robert Sampson, was a half-blood, but none of that had stopped the three from becoming fast friends. Though she hadn’t mentioned that she _knew_ the two Wild Mages who’d been summarily ejected from the wizarding world; both Jon and Rob were afraid of them for some reason.

“Hi Jon. What’s up?”

Glancing around, Jon guided her to the side, out of the crush. “Alex just told me he’s writing our sister’s boyfriend back; he wants to see her.”

“What about the rest of you?” Claire asked, frowning. She didn’t know much, just that Jon and his older brother Alex had an older sister who’d left the magical world to be with her boyfriend and hadn’t even _contacted_ them for over a year. Even then, her boyfriend had been the one to get in touch, not _her_.

Jon sighed, scrubbing his hands through short, dark red hair. “I don’t know if I want to see her, Claire. Raoul wants to see her and so does Jack, but she _left_. Didn’t even say good-bye; we got home from school one day and she was _gone_. Father spent _months_ trying to find her, but…”

“He couldn’t,” Claire finished softly, touching her friend’s arm. Biting her lip, Claire checked her watch, then decided Jon was more important than her next class. “Come on,” she ordered, tugging the boy after her. “Let’s go find somewhere quiet and you can tell me the rest.”

“Thanks, Claire.” Gratitude shone and admiration.

* * * * *

Kevin ‘Wordy’ Wordsworth chuckled at his best friend’s expression as he came back into the workout room. “What’d Sarge want?” he asked, leaning forward on his exercise bike.

Ed made a face as he started up his own bike. “He wants me helping him with the paperwork; something about Holleran dumping more on him ever since he got out of the hospital.”

One brow arched. “What happened to Sam doing it?”

“Boss wants to wait until Holleran’s not keeping an eye on us,” Ed explained, earning a nod. “And um…don’t know if you’ve noticed…”

“I noticed, Ed,” Wordy interjected. “Last three days running, he’s been hauling paperwork into Holleran’s office. You find out why?”

Sighing, the team leader paused his session long enough to get off and adjust the seat. As he played with the seat’s height, he replied, “Greg showed me some of what he’s been taking to Holleran, Word. I’ve never even _seen_ those forms before.”

The brunet whistled low, understanding. “Wonder what Holleran’s up to.”

Shrugging, the bald man continued, “Greg showed me how to fill the new paperwork out, just in case I get stuck with it, but even when Holleran stops hovering, Boss is gonna have to go through the paperwork before Sam gets it. Holleran only wants me or Greg doing the new stuff.”

“Copy.” Tilting his head towards his team leader, Wordy asked, “How’s Sarge doing, Ed? Really doing.”

For a minute, silence hung around the two friends, then Ed huffed. “I don’t know, Word. I mean, for a _second_ there, it was like having the old Greg Parker back. You never met that Greg Parker, Wordy – before he was in Homicide, before he started drinking, heck even before he got married.”

Wordy’s eyes widened. “You mean back when you first met him?”

A nod. “Believe me, Wordy, as good as he is now, he could’ve been even _better_. Word around the station was he’d arrested one of Toronto’s worst criminals while he was _off-duty_. Less’n a month out of the Academy.”

The big constable jerked back, eyes wide. “ _Sarge_ did that?”

“Oh, yeah, Word; got reamed out by his training officer for it, too. I met him after I’d heard the rumors; half-thought he was some kinda super-cop, then he turned out to be a nice guy. All that attention embarrassed him; he didn’t think he’d done anything special.”

Wordy snickered. “Bet that reaming out didn’t even slow him down.”

“No, it didn’t,” Ed breathed. “You know the Sarge; he was better with talking than tactics, even back then, but that just kept him one step ahead of everyone else. You’d get one guy who’d run around in circles for hours trying to catch the local gangbangers by himself and Greg just strolls into the nearest corner store and strikes up a conversation with the girl behind the counter.”

The brunet chortled. “She’d lead him right to the guys, huh, Ed?”

“Pretty much, Word. I lost count of how many times he’d nail ‘em on domestic violence charges and chew ‘em out for it while he booked ‘em for all the other warrants they had open.”

Wordy’s eyes darkened. “You think…?”

“I never asked, Wordy. But he worked every single Christmas until he met Catherine. Never talked about his parents, not even when he took a few hits on the job. Then he got the promotion to Homicide and, well, you know how that turned out.”

Sorrowful, Wordy jerked another nod.

“Now…” Ed trailed off. “It’s like he’s _afraid_ to give us orders.”

“Afraid to use his magic,” Wordy murmured. “Has he tried to shift since that booster wore off?”

The team leader shook his head. “Told me flat out that he hates the gryphon, Word. Doesn’t ever want it out again.” Ed shuddered. “I’m just happy the telepathy wore off, too.”

Wordy understood his friend’s sentiments, but he frowned nonetheless. “Ed, he can’t ignore his magic forever. Even if he never loses control, it’s _part_ of him. And he’s the Sarge, he’s _supposed_ to give us orders.”

“I know,” the lean sniper agreed. “But let’s not push it, Word; at least give him a _little_ time to get over it.”

About to chuckle agreement, Wordy glanced down when his phone buzzed.

* * * * *

The shouts warned her; the cop’s daughter halted, ignoring Jon’s confusion as she pushed him backwards. Turning, Claire held one finger to her lips for silence, then tiptoed to the corner and peeked around it; her eyes widened in horror at what she saw and she skittered back to Jon, grabbing his hand and yanking him after her as she ran.

Two floors and four reversals later, Claire pushed Jon into a nearby empty classroom and pulled her phone out. “Close the door,” she ordered, not looking up from the phone. Fingers flew, finding her father’s number and opening a new message; she didn’t glanced up as Jon slammed the door shut and leaned against it, panting with fear and exertion.

DAD, HELP‼  
SOMEONE’S KILLING KIDS  
AT SCHOOL‼

* * * * *

Sam’s head jerked up as Wordy bolted off his exercise bike. “Team One, hot call!” the backup team leader yelled.

“Word?” Ed demanded, scrambling after the big constable.

“Claire!” Without breaking stride, the brunet raced for the briefing room, his teammates on his heels. Inside, their boss glanced up, puzzled and a bit bemused, right up until Wordy thrust his phone forward, snapping, “Magic-side school shooting, Sarge.”

Parker studied the bobbing phone for an instant, absorbing both the text and his constable’s report. Then he was up and moving himself. “Gear up!” he ordered. As the constables dispersed, the Sergeant strode to the dispatcher’s desk. “Winnie, get Commander Locksley on the line; school shooting at the Toronto School of Magic.”

“Yes, sir,” Winnie acknowledged, her hands already moving.

“Tell her we’re rolling, but we need a closer arrival point than the school’s tech-born drop off. We need as many patrol Aurors as we can get; it’s a spree so we’re gonna have bodies, casualties. EMS for the injured, patrol Aurors to lock down the building and start getting kids out.”

“Copy that.”

“After that, call Roy and Giles; we need blueprints for the school.” As he spoke, the Sergeant jogged for the trucks, saving his speed for when he needed it.

* * * * *

Cars fled to both sides of the road as Team One’s trucks roared past, lights and sirens wailing. Over the comms, Winnie reeled off a new address, adding, “Locksley said that’s as close as you can get; there should be a gateway that’ll take you right to the school from there.”

“Copy that, Winnie,” Parker acknowledged. “Wordy, anything more from Claire?”

“Nothing, Sarge,” Wordy replied. “I sent a message back, telling her to keep her head down.”

The Sergeant drew in a breath. “Okay, I know no one wants to hear this, but judging from Claire’s message, we’re dealing with a spree. Even if we do this thing perfectly, there’s going to be bodies. Unknown as to how many shooters we’re dealing with or how many are already down. Ed?”

The team leader accepted the handoff. “Three teams,” he ordered. “Alpha Team will be myself and Sam; Bravo Team, Spike and Jules. Sarge, you and the rest will be Charlie Team.”

‘Copy’s rang out from the constables.

“Greg, you want to hang back and try to profile this?”

“Negative,” the Sergeant replied. “Unless the shooters are tech-born, there won’t be any records to pull. No blueprints available either; direct to threat is gonna be our best shot at stopping this thing.”

“We got any idea of how big the school is?” Lou asked.

“Four floors,” Parker replied. “Plus the grounds; _mio nipote_ said the grounds aren’t as big as Hogwarts, but the school essentially has a small magical zoo for the students.” The Sergeant paused, then added dryly, “Lance was a bit disappointed by the lack of ghosts, moving staircases, and trick steps, but that can only help us.”

“Trick _steps_?” Spike asked, a touch of prankster glee lurking.

“You can ask him later, Spike,” Wordy retorted, fear for his daughter audible.

“Sir?” Winnie ventured.

“Winnie, what do you got?” Ed demanded.

The dispatcher’s disappointment rang in her report. “Detectives Lane and Onasi aren’t picking up their phones.”

“So no blueprints any time soon,” Lou concluded. “Wait… Sarge, I got an idea.”

“What’ve you got, Lou?” Parker’s tone was careful. Inviting without giving his constable an outright order.

“Lisa. She can’t get us blueprints, but she knows the school.”

“So do most of the Aurors,” Spike pointed out.

“We’re gonna need ‘em gettin’ as many kids out as they can,” Lou countered. “Lis can give us directions on the fly, ‘specially if she gets over to the barn and gets a headset from Winnie.”

“Lou, she’d be up for that?” Ed questioned. “She’s a civilian, not an Auror.”

The less-lethal specialist was undeterred. “Her four little brothers are in that school, Ed; she’ll do it. Sarge?”

For a beat, silence hung. Then, still in that careful tone, the Sergeant replied, “Okay, Lou.”

Sam glanced over at Lou, frustration evident; the other man grimaced back, but shook his head, pulling his phone free.

* * * * *

Once at their destination, Team One abandoned their trucks, swiftly gearing up and heading through the gateway. On the other side, the seven Aurors remained grouped as they moved towards the school, weapons down but at the ready. The plaintive whimpers of an animal drew Parker’s attention; he frowned as he glanced over, then stiffened.

“Team,” he hissed, pulling their attention away from the school. Signaling towards the hippogriff paddock, he took the lead, expression going grim as he drew close enough to see the carnage. Any doubts about Claire’s frantic text for help evaporated as his constables scrambled to check the casualties.

“Gone,” Wordy reported numbly, anguish blazing as he looked up from two young girls, blood soaking their robes and hair.

“Nothing,” Jules agreed from her crouch next to the fallen teacher.

Ed growled softly, grip tightening on his gun as he straightened from two more – a boy and a third girl. “That’s five.”

“Guys,” Lou hissed, paling. His teammates turned as the less-lethal specialist let his weapon fall to press both hands down on the final boy’s chest. “We need EMS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this week got off to a roaring start - or maybe it was a trainwreck? Anyway, first my apartment complex scares me half-to-death with an email that asked: Are you staying or going? As in, your lease is up, are you signing a new one? Except...I already signed a new six-month lease and it's about a week away from the switchover. Just about hit the roof at the idea of either losing my apartment or paying month-to-month rent when I have a _signed lease_. Contacted them posthaste and got an, 'Oops, sorry, that's an automated email. We have your new lease on file, don't worry 'bout it.' I advised them that maybe it's not a good idea to scare their tenants half-to-death!
> 
> Then I got a message on LinkedIn from a recruiter. Not a bad thing, in and of itself...I was perfectly willing to set up a call and listen to his spiel. Except then I checked the employer reviews on Glassdoor and talk about out of the flying pan and into the fire! When bad reviews go back several years and list out the same complaints over and over again...you do not walk, you _run_. Especially for low pay, long hours, lousy benefits, no Paid Time Off, and claims of deception regarding contracts.
> 
> I did manage to touch base with a different recruiter who contacted me a couple months back, but I had to wait for the end of May when my two-year contract with my current employer expired. Now that it has expired, I am free to seek out other jobs elsewhere and we'd hoped to touch base in May, but well, I missed his message until a week later and he missed my message until I tried again yesterday and...
> 
> At any rate, please pray for me. I have a 6 AM call tomorrow (Wednesday) and I'm very hopeful that maybe I can get out of this job with long hours and low pay (but I do get good benefits and Paid Time Off!) Also pray that I can continue working these long hours and bring glory to God by performing well in this trial He has set before me. After all, it's not people that have brought me to this job, it is the Lord and I trust that He has a good, good plan for my life.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed and I will 'see' you on Friday (June 12th).


	3. Flashover

Lou grimaced as he, Wordy, and Sarge rounded another corner; Wordy’s focus was more on his phone than the call as the big constable struggled to get his daughter to answer her phone. The Sarge was actually doing most of the work for their group; Lou himself was trying to relay Lisa’s intel until she could reach the barn and Winnie.

“Sam, Ed, Lisa says there should be eight classrooms on the second floor.”

“How many in use?” Sam asked.

“All of ‘em; Lis says the school’s been running at max capacity for years.”

“How many students total?” Jules questioned.

“Close to a thousand,” Lou reported. “Guys, this is the _only_ magical school in Canada.” He paused, then swallowed several colorful words. “And Lis just told me it even gets some kids from the U.S.”

Ahead, Sarge glanced back. “Winnie, how’s the evacuation going?”

“Patrol Aurors have managed to clear the first four classrooms on the ground floor, Boss, but most of the teachers had no idea there was even a problem until the Aurors showed up.”

“Somebody starts shooting and they don’t notice?” Ed demanded incredulously.

“It’s all wandfire,” Spike pointed out. “If they didn’t hear the screaming, then…”

“Nothing unusual,” Lou concluded grimly.

“Our subjects have been careful not to let anyone escape,” the Boss observed. “All the attacks so far have been on small groups.”

They wouldn’t have even known how many subjects they were after but for the little boy who’d survived the first attack. Before being whisked away by on-scene Healers, the fourth year had croaked out that two older students had attacked his Care of Magical Creatures class. Their victim had attempted to duel one of his attackers, but hadn’t lasted long against the barrage of curses.

The motives for the attack weren’t clear yet, but Lou was starting to get a sinking feeling. School shootings were _unheard_ of in the magical world, but anyone from _their_ side of the fence could probably list at least half a dozen school shootings.

“Lou, I’m at your station,” Lisa said. “Who do I talk to?”

“Talk to Winnie, Lis; she knows you’re coming.”

“O-Okay. Just…just keep my brothers safe.”

“Do my best, girl,” Lou promised before hanging up. “Guys, Lisa’s at the barn.”

“Copy that,” Sarge acknowledged. “Wordy?” The order went unspoken, but implicit. _Focus please._

Scowling, Wordy tucked his own phone away. “Yes, _sir_ ,” the upset constable gritted out.

In one fluid movement, the Sergeant halted and turned, gaze narrow, expression intent. “Do I need to take you off-duty, Constable Wordsworth?”

Wordy jerked back, a fierce determination blazing. “No, sir, I am good.”

Lou didn’t believe it and neither did Sarge, judging by the glint in hazel eyes.

With a clatter, an elk Patronus arrived, demanding attention. “Sergeant Parker,” it reported, the voice that of Junior Auror Tasride. “Merric just found a Muggleborn that got knocked out by our attackers. Everyone else in the classroom’s dead.”

Three sets of eyes widened. “Winnie, get Simmons on the line,” Sarge ordered.

“Copy,” Winnie replied. “Lisa Amesbury is here, Sarge; Kira’s almost got the headset set up for her.”

“Good work, Winnie. Have Kira stay with Miss Amesbury; I want you to start making a list of casualties. Separate them by blood status; this spree may be racially motivated.”

“Yes, sir. Teachers, too?”

“If we know, yes,” the Sergeant agreed, “but focus on the students; we’ve got one confirmed report of our shooters leaving a tech-born alive.” Shifting attention, Parker added, “Team, let’s see if we can isolate the shooters and herd them away from their victims.”

“Parker.”

Without skipping a beat, the Sarge asked, “Simmons, can your Aurors Apparate into the third and fourth floor classrooms to evacuate students?”

“Wish we _could_ , Parker,” the gruff Auror replied. “Whole school has Anti-Apparition Wards; we’d need the Headmaster to drop ‘em and he’s out of town.”

“That’s convenient,” Lou muttered resentfully.

“Can anyone else drop the wards? The Deputy Headmistress?”

“We can give it a shot, Parker, but no promises. Anything else?”

Hazel hardened. “How many of the dead are Muggleborn, Nathan?”

The Auror paused, caught off guard. “Parker? What are you up to?”

“Confirming a theory. How many?”

Distantly, the team heard Simmons turn away from the phone, asking his subordinates the same question. The response was inaudible, but the Auror’s low curse was not. “Parker?”

“Yes?”

“None of them. All half-blood or pureblood.”

“Boss…one.”

Lou froze even as Sarge’s expression turned quizzical. “Eddie?”

* * * * *

Sam felt his chest twist as he regarded what they’d found. Two little girls, second years by their robes, lay in a widening pool of blood, both sets of eyes blank and unseeing. One of them lay on top of the other; she’d clearly been shielding her friend, to no avail. Above the broken forms, a word was etched into the wall.

TRAITOR

The only other clue needed was the New Balance sneakers the top girl wore. Tech-born.

“The shooters are tech-born,” Sam growled.

* * * * *

“Eddie, we’re falling back,” Greg announced, glaring at Wordy when the big constable made to protest. “Simmons, that Muggleborn who survived, can you get them conscious?”

“He’s already awake, Parker,” the other replied. “Why?”

“I’d like to talk to him,” the Sergeant said. “See if we can get an idea of who we’re dealing with here.” Holstering his weapon, Parker directed his next words to his immediate teammates. “Lou, coordinate with Lisa, Kira, and the team; let’s see if we can cut these guys off from their victims.”

“Copy.”

“Wordy, if we get any names, I want you interviewing the students and teachers we’ve already evacuated; we might get lucky with tech-side records, but these guys have been magic-side since they turned eleven.”

“What about Claire?” Wordy protested. “We haven’t found her yet.”

Greg let his voice turn harsh. “Constable Wordsworth, I _will_ take you off-duty if I have to.” Topaz glinted as he turned his head. “We have a whole school full of terrified children and two spree shooters on the loose in that school; I need _every_ member of this team on point and _focused_. Is that understood?” When Wordy glared at him mulishly, the harsh tone went frigid. “I said, _is that understood?_ ”

“Yes. Sir.”

His sixth sense rumbled; he should take Wordy off-duty, eliminate the team’s temporary weak link. It had been one thing to leave _Ed_ on-duty the times Roy had been in jeopardy – Roy was a grown man, a _cop_ , and Ed was better than Wordy at compartmentalizing his emotions.

“Wordy.” His constable glanced at him. “I get it; you want your daughter out of there, but we have _got_ to stay focused. That’s our best way to protect her; keep on top of this and stop these guys before they get near her.”

Resentment still simmered, but the brunet nodded stiffly. “I hear you, Sarge.”

“Good. Let’s move.”

* * * * *

Lou blinked in surprise when they reached the evacuation area and he spied Alex Amesbury, one of Lisa’s younger brothers. Even so, the Auror kept on point, moving to one of the tables and borrowing an old-fashioned ink pen and a sheaf of parchment. “Okay, guys, where’ve we been?”

“Third floor is clear from red wall on,” Jules replied. “We’re working our way towards green; Lisa, how many classrooms on the third floor?”

“Six,” the young witch informed them. “They’re bigger than the classrooms on the second floor and I think there might be some storage the house-elves use on that floor.”

“What about the fourth floor, Lis?”

“Eight classrooms, Lou, just like the second.”

“Lou, buddy, we’re on classroom number five,” Spike reported. “I’d say they’ve figured out what’s going on; classrooms four and now five are locked. I can see civilians inside; they’re scared, but they look fine.”

Before Lou could reply, the Boss broke in. “Spike, Jules, keep moving. Simmons is sending his squad into the areas we’ve already cleared to handle evacuations. Sam, Eddie, how’re you two doing?”

“Second floor clear, Boss.”

Lou leaned forward, dark eyes narrowing. “Sam, any other casualties?”

“Negative; just the two we found,” the blond sniper replied. “Couple of the classrooms were empty, though.”

The less-lethal specialist frowned. That didn’t sound like max capacity to _him_. “Lis?”

“Maybe they heard what was happening and ran?” Lisa offered. “Or…are there any school events going on?”

“Think I saw a couple flyers,” Wordy mused. “And Claire was talking about some in-school convention last week.”

“So they’ve been setting up the classrooms,” Lou reasoned out. On his parchment, he marked the second floor off and noted that the third floor was almost clear. “Boss, no one’s checked four yet.”

“I hear you, Lou. Sam, Ed, see if you can clear four starting from black wall; Jules, Spike, as soon as you’re done on three, hit four’s white wall.”

“Pincer move’s risky, Boss,” Ed observed. “We’ll end up corralling the targets, too. Or they could get past us and down the stairs.”

“Copy that, Ed, but we need to shut this down. Move up to four and I’ll get Simmons to put patrol Aurors on the staircases, keep the shooters from escaping. You have Scorpio if you need it.”

“Auror Young?”

Lou glanced up from his writing and straightened, facing the tall, lean brunet. “Neal. What’ve we got?”

Green eyes flashed, but not at him. “Just heard from the hospital. Jack Amesbury is going to make it, but two of his brothers are still missing. Raoul and Jonathan.”

“What years are they in?” Lou asked, making a new list on his parchment.

“Raoul’s fourth year, like Jack,” Neal replied. At the arched brow, he explained, “They’re twins. Jonathan is a first year.”

Tilting his head towards the milling students, Lou drawled, “And they have one more brother who’s a fifth year.”

Surprise gleamed. “You know the Amesburys?”

Lou shook his head, offering Lisa a silent apology. “Not personally. We got a casualty list yet?”

“Merric and Seaver are working on it,” Neal reported. “Counting the two on the second floor, sixteen dead so far.”

The less-lethal specialist winced at the high count. “They’re moving fast,” he muttered.

“Yes, sir,” Neal agreed miserably. “Senior Auror Simmons thinks most of them died before we got here.”

That didn’t make it better. “Okay, Neal, my Boss is gonna see if he can get names from our survivor, then Wordy’s gonna need to interview some of the students.”

“Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”

A faint grin appeared, despite the situation. “And Neal. Don’t call _me_ sir, I _work_ for a living.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interview with a recruiter on Wednesday went about as well as I think it could go. I honestly don't know how far this will go, but I am hoping. I've provided my resume and now it's a waiting game. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing that went well on Wednesday. Much to my dismay, I literally spent all of my other waking hours on the work computer. 15 hours. And _then_ , on Thursday, when I asked if I could leave _one measly little hour early_ , my manager tried to say No! Oh, you can take a little break during the _day_ and all will be well. Who in the _world_ does he think he's _kidding_! If we're online, we are available at a moment's notice as far as anyone else is concerned. And woe betide you if you don't respond quickly enough - it may not be quite that bad, but that's what it feels like to me.
> 
> Please pray that the Lord gives me strength and endurance to escape this job and that I do not make the mistake of jumping from the frying pan into the fire. I would rather not be the person who jumps from job to job, always seeking greener pastures. I would much rather be like my Dad, who was able to spend pretty much his entire career at one company and he was treated very well.
> 
> Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed and have a great weekend!


	4. Black Fire

Claire hadn’t wanted to head back _towards_ the bad guys, but Jonathan had _refused_ to leave until he found his older brothers. Her argument that Jon didn’t know enough _magic_ to help fell on deaf ears; the frightened, but determined brunette was just grateful Jon was letting her go first and _staying quiet_. Creeping around the next corner, the pair smacked right into Robert Sampson; Claire bit back a squeak of alarm and covered Robert’s mouth before he could yell.

“It’s us,” she hissed.

After a tense moment, Rob calmed down, but not by much. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he hissed back.

“Not without my brothers,” Jon declared in a whisper.

“Jon, you don’t _get_ it, do you? They’re _killing_ anyone who’s not Muggleborn!”

“Shhh!” Claire ordered. Nervously, she eyed the hallways ahead of them. Too open, too exposed; they should go _back_ , but Jon wouldn’t. Help, they needed help, but her Daddy didn’t need her interrupting him right now; he was _coming_ , she _knew_ that, but he wasn’t _here_. She wished he was, if only because Jon would _have_ to listen to _him_. An idea prodded at her. Help. From someone who was _way_ better at magic than the three of _them_.

“I have an idea.”

Both boys looked at her, skeptical.

“I’m not going back,” Jon snapped.

Claire glared right back. “Jon, we’re _first_ years. What are we gonna do, levitate a _rock_ at them?”

Rob nodded vigorous agreement.

“Stay here if you want, but I’m _going_.”

Setting her jaw, Claire’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “No, you’re _not_. We need help and _I_ know where to get it.”

“Where?” Rob asked.

Grimly, Claire pulled out her cell phone. “Right here. You two pipe down and keep an eye out.”

* * * * *

Alanna Victoria Calvin allowed a soft moan as she lay on the bed in the small room that served as St. John’s infirmary. The nurse sighed, pulling another tissue from the box right next to the bed.

“Here, hold this in place,” she instructed. “Let’s see if we can stop the bleeding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alanna whispered, wadding up the tissue and pressing it against her nose. “I’m sorry,” she managed around the material. “It just started bleeding all of a sudden.”

The nurse patted her hand. “It’s not your fault, dear. Would you like me to call your uncle?”

“Maybe if it doesn’t stop in a couple minutes.”

“All right. I’ll be back in five minutes to check on you, dear.”

As soon as the nurse was gone, Alanna worked her cell phone out of its hidden pocket, humming to herself. Honestly, that had been _so_ easy. Now to figure out why her magic kept buzzing at her…

Before she could text her brother, the cell phone vibrated. Frowning, the redhead swiped the message open.

ALANNA, HELP‼  
WE’RE TRAPPED NEAR  
SCHOOL SHOOTERS‼

Even as she stiffened in alarm, a second message arrived.

JON WON’T LEAVE  
WITHOUT HIS BROTHERS

Violet narrowed and Alanna quickly found the other end to her Nosebleed Nougat, tossing it down without hesitation; her nose immediately stopped bleeding. Turning to the window, she forced it open, dropping her phone on the bed as she did so. Once the window was open, the teenager _blurred_ and vanished in a ball of flame.

* * * * *

“Kyle Stetler and Rick Heller,” the Sarge announced.

“That’s who we’re dealing with?” Lou asked, pen hovering over the parchment in front of him.

His boss nodded. “That’s who our witness says they are.” He grimaced. “According to our witness, they were very enthusiastic about the tournament at Shiloh, but neither of their parents showed up to watch.”

“So they shoot up a school?” Spike inquired sarcastically over the comm.

“Spike, I’d bet there are at least a dozen more stressors we don’t know about, but I did learn something else.”

The less-lethal specialist fidgeted, seeing the dark, unhappy expression on his superior’s face. “Boss?”

“Our subjects have been acting out ever since _mio nipotes_ were expelled.”

“Expelled?” Wordy demanded. “I thought you pulled them out.”

“I did,” Sarge replied dryly. “And a day later, I got an owl from the school saying they’d been expelled and demanding Alanna’s wand be snapped; they wanted me to mail the pieces back to them or I was going to have ‘real’ Aurors at my door. I took the letter to Simmons and he handled the rest.” Sighing, he added, “According to our witness, all sorts of rumors swept the school, but our subjects weren’t buying the Wild Magic story – _they_ believed _mio nipotes_ were expelled because they stood up for tech-borns.”

“Well,” Sam drawled, “if you don’t know the whole story, that probably makes more sense.”

“Especially when you already feel marginalized from your pureblood and half-blood classmates,” Jules agreed.

Lou frowned. “So, what – they’re trying to strike a blow for all the tech-borns out there?”

“They might think they’re just giving the purebloods a taste of their own medicine,” Sam suggested.

“By killing a bunch of kids?” Incredulity soaked the brunet constable’s words.

“Wordy.” At the quiet warning in the name, the constables fell silent. “See what you can find out about our two subjects – any other stressors they’ve been under. Lou, how are we on the sweep?”

“Third floor’s clear, Boss,” Lou reported. “Just the fourth floor left, but Lisa says the layout’s different from all the other floors.”

“Different how?”

“That’s the Hogwarts floor, Sergeant Parker,” Lisa offered up tentatively, still getting used to the comm. “The classrooms will move around and nobody likes using those classrooms, not even the teachers. Some of the older students try to scare the younger students by claiming you can get lost on that floor and never get out.”

“What’s the trick to it?” Spike asked.

“If the sun rises, follow the clock, but when it sets, turn back time.”

Lou frowned – it sounded simple, but he knew it was anything _but_. “And how do you know if the sun’s rising, Lis?”

“Outside every classroom door and above the staircases are portraits,” Lisa explained. “If you can see the moon in the portrait, the sun’s setting.”

“Okay, team keep your eyes open and stay in contact.”

“Mark the doors,” Spike suggested.

“Good idea, Spike, and team? Keep your weapons up; our subjects don’t have much more room to run.”

* * * * *

The violet phoenix appeared next to the hatchlings; the two boys jumped, but Claire hurried over, eyes shining. “Flamewings,” she breathed.

“ _That’s_ your help?” one of the boys blurted.

“Come on, guys. She can get us to the classrooms.”

The blond hatchling hurried forward, latching onto one of Flamewings’ tail feathers, but the redhead hung back, scowling. “I’m not leaving without my brothers.”

“And you’ll do them _so_ much good when those guys catch you,” the blond sneered.

Flamewings trilled disapproval, then piped several encouraging notes at the redhead, flaring her tail feathers invitingly.

“Come on, Jon, she can _help_ us; she’ll keep us safe. What would your brothers say if they lost _you_ , too?” Claire coaxed. After a long minute, Jon nodded and edged forward, grabbing a second tail feather as Claire grasped a third.

The group vanished seconds before two SRU constables could round the corner.

* * * * *

Fire exploded near the front of a room, drawing screams from the young occupants. The one older occupant lifted her weapon, trembling as she braced herself to protect her charges. A phoenix appeared out of the fire, three children clinging to the bird’s tail feathers. Paling, the woman hurried to the quartet, already shepherding the little ones to safety.

The girl refused to be pulled away from her rescuer until the beautiful violet phoenix turned her head and trilled encouragement.

“Come on, Claire,” the one of the boys cried. “Get away from it.” He made a face. “I thought it would take us to my brothers, not some random classroom.”

Claire’s head whipped around, a scowl appearing. “ _She’s_ protecting us.”

_Thump._

All heads turned towards the door, new screams of fear rising. “It’s _them_ ,” one of the girls wailed.

The phoenix hissed, crest rising as she fluttered, glaring balefully at the door.

Outside, a male voice yelled a curse; the door collapsed, falling back into the room with a _thud_. Two teenagers entered, vicious smiles glowing as they surveyed their latest targets. The blond raised his wand.

Piping challenge, the phoenix flew between the wizards and the children. As the other wizard hurled a curse, she _blurred_ ; sneakers thumped as their owner brought both hands up, shouting a spell of her own.

Violet magic blazed, forming a shield between the wizards and the room full of school children.


	5. Backdraft

Alanna’s eyes narrowed as she recognized both attackers. They stared at her, their own eyes widening as they recognized her in turn.

“ _#!%^$!_ ” Rick spat. “We shoulda _known_.”

“Once a pureblood, _always_ a pureblood,” Kyle sneered.

The witch cocked her head to the side. “At least _I_ don’t target defenseless _kids_ ,” she retorted. “Now, come on, boys, gimme your best shot.”

They opened up with Bludgeoning and Cutting Curses, switching to _Reducto_ and _Bombarda_ when her shield failed to even twitch under the assault. Pouring more magic into her shield, Alanna turned her head.

“Claire! Do you still have your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Text your Dad. Tell him fourth floor, green wall, and two subjects.”

“Copy,” Claire acknowledged, fingers already flying.

“Good girl,” Alanna whispered, turning back to her own battle. The bombardment was increasing, rapidly reaching the point where she knew her shield would fail. “ _Ástríce!_ ” she yelled, hurling the shield _itself_ at her attackers.

Violet magic shot forward, slamming both wizards back into the wall.

Slim hands pulled her bow free, already nocking an arrow as she brought it around. The arrow flew into the floor, followed by two others before Alanna summoned her magic again. “ _Gescildan!_ ” The shield flared to life once more, anchored by the runes inscribed on the arrowheads.

As the two enemy wizards crawled to their feet, dazed by their impact with the wall, Alanna smiled viciously and adjusted her stance to display her bow in her left hand and her right hand raised, either to cast a spell or pull another arrow from her quiver. “Round two, boys,” she purred. “Let’s see what you can do.”

* * * * *

“Fourth floor, green wall!” Wordy shouted, bolting out of the evacuation area with his Sarge and Lou on his heels.

* * * * *

“On our way,” Sam called, darting left.

“Sam?” Ed demanded, following the sniper.

“Sunrise!” Sam yelled back.

* * * * *

Jules bit back a swear as she and Spike were forced to double back at Sam’s yell – _their_ sun was _setting_.

* * * * *

Alanna let a fireball dance on her free hand, twirling it as the wizards outside her barrier hurled every curse they could think of at it. School shooting. A _magic-side_ school shooting. How many, she wondered, had these two already _murdered_?

“You know,” she remarked, words casual even if her voice was not. “When Lance told me we had to hide our Wild Magic, I didn’t understand. Didn’t really think about it, either. After all, Wild Magic didn’t save our _parents_. Didn’t stop the Death Eaters from breaking into our _home_ and _burning_ it to the _ground_. So I did it, I hid my magic, my very _self_.”

She ignored the gasps from the frightened students, but turned when a small hand touched her belt. Claire Wordsworth gazed up at her, sorrow and implicit trust shining bright.

The teenager smiled back. “Our uncle talked us into using it again,” she whispered, meeting Claire’s gaze. “He wanted us to learn our heritage and _never_ be ashamed of it. To use it to _help_ people and make the world a better place.”

“To keep the peace,” Claire offered, earning another smile and an agreeing nod.

“Then everybody found out about it and all of sudden, we were monsters. _We_ were what people are afraid of, inhuman and _evil_ ,” Alanna continued, letting her gaze harden into amethyst as her attention shifted to the wizards outside her shield. “But, you know, from where _I’m_ standing, I’m not the monster.”

“Traitor,” Kyle spat. “First you _trick_ us into trying to make a difference, then you _backstab_ us and leave us high and dry!”

“ _I_ didn’t tell you to walk into school and start _murdering_ people!” Alanna hissed.

“You made us think things would change,” Rick panted. “That people would _believe_ in us.”

Anguish gleamed. “You guys…I’m _sorry_ about your parents, really, I am.” The fireball grew in size. “I’m _sorry_ they don’t see you for _who you are_ , that they ignore you and mistreat you.” Her eyes ignited. “But that’s no excuse. That’s not a reason to _kill_ people.” A smirk emerged as their casting slowed. “I guess that means it’s _my_ turn.”

A simple gesture broke the fireball into two and she hurled them outwards, unconcerned when twin shields blocked her strike. “ _Waeter, híersume me_ **(1)** ,” she whispered, smiling as water gathered around her opponents’ feet. “ _Cume þoden_ **(2)**.” Liquid rose, whipping as wind roared and advanced. Kyle dodged, but Rick was thrown into the wall again, slamming down on the floor. Whipping sideways towards her still standing opponent, Alanna yelled, “ _Oferswinge!_ ”

“Kyle!” Rick howled as his friend impacted harsh, unforgiving brick with an ominous _crunch_. “Pureblood _#!%^$!_ You’ll _pay_ for that!” Scrambling back to his feet and raising his wand, he yelled out an incantation Alanna knew by heart, but would _never_ , _ever_ use.

“Are you _crazy_?” she yelled back. “ _Don’t!_ That’s _Fiendfyre!_ ”

Too late. The cursed fire erupted, howling with an inferno’s full rage as it impacted the violet barrier. Instantly, it rebounded, engulfing both its caster and his unconscious partner, then thundered back at the lives it could sense, bubbling and howling as flaming dragons formed in its depths.

“Claire!” Alanna shouted above the dragons’ roar. “Hurry! Tell Team One to fall back! Do it now!”

* * * * *

Wordy skidded to a halt so quickly his teammates ran into him. Terror pulsed through him as he stared at the newest message. “Guys, _stop_!”

“Wordy, what’s wrong?” Ed demanded, sliding to a stop as ordered.

“Fiendfyre,” the big constable reported. “Subjects used Fiendfyre; we’re cut off.”

“Fiendfyre?” Lou echoed. “As in the cursed fire that doesn’t stop till everything’s dead, _that_ Fiendfyre?”

“Sam, Ed, Spike, Jules,” Sarge rapped out. “Evacuate the fourth floor! Get everyone out! Lou! Double-time it back to the first floor; everybody out of the building! Now!”

As Lou pelted away, Greg turned towards his remaining constable. “Wordy, find me a window.”

“Sarge?”

Fear gleamed, but the Sergeant didn’t back down. “Let’s find out if I can fly.”

* * * * *

More arrows flew, their arrowheads glowing with Alanna’s power, but the Wild Mage knew it wouldn’t be enough. Not to contain Fiendfyre.

“ _Tídrénas_ **(3)** _!_ ” Rain fell from the room’s ceiling, drawing squeals from several girls and a furious _hiss_ from the fiery chimaeras, but Alanna’s attention remained locked on the cursed fire attempting to batter down their defenses. “ _Eorthe, lyft, fyr, waeter, hiersumaþ me. Gescildan ús._ **(4)** ” Her shield glowed as four of the five magical elements reinforced it. The Fiendfyre howled defiance; the violet’s glow faltered as the cursed fire pressed against it, slowly burning through despite the elemental reinforcement, despite the runic arrowheads anchoring the barrier.

Alanna lifted her chin despite the odds. She would not fail, no matter what. Too many lives depended on her now. “Claire.”

“Alanna?” Terror rang, but Claire’s trust in her remained. Her faith that Alanna could save them.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

She transformed, throwing herself forward with a shriek of pure _defiance_. Fiendfyre roared around her, the dark magic _raging_ that she was immune to its flames. Phoenix claws grasped the heart of the cursed fire and she let her magic flare, transporting them away.

[1] Old English for ‘Water, obey me.’

[2] Old English for ‘Come whirlwind.’

[3] Old English for ‘Timely rain.’

[4] Old English for ‘Earth, air, fire, water, obey me. Shield us.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm exhausted and it's only the beginning of Friday. Another team wants us to fix their problem with the 'best case scenario', but that's simply not going to happen. And we still have to figure out how it will even _work_ to fix their problem, 'cause they don't just want us to fix the thing that's wrong. They want all the information from our database, but it's not nearly that simple, I fear.
> 
> Another team chose yesterday to scream about a problem that's been going on for over a year and my boss decided I didn't have _enough_ messes in my lap, so he dumped it on me without so much as a by-your-leave. We're still getting alerts from a system that we can't even access, so we don't even know what it's complaining about. I seriously want out of this job, but I don't have any other place to go, so I'm stuck.
> 
> Please pray that the Lord will provide me with the endurance to keep going and the wisdom to either figure out the problem or seek advice from those more knowledgeable. Also that He would provide a new job soon, so that I'm not stuck with 10+ hours days, evening/weekend work, and people who are never satisfied. The combination is wearing me down very quickly.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed and I wish you a great weekend.


	6. Burnout

Claire stared at where her friend had been, then past the still shimmering violet barrier to the scorched room beyond.

“Where’d she go?” Jon asked.

“She’s gone,” Claire whispered. Alanna was gone; she’d saved them, but she _was gone_. Fury boiled and the brunette snapped around to her friend. “You _idiot!_ ” she yelled. “We’re _first years_ , what did you expect us to do? _Throw_ stuff at those guys? But _no!_ Jon has to be the big first year _hero_ and _save_ his brothers!” Tears streamed down her face. “Because of _you_ , she’s dead!”

“Hey, I’m not the one who _called_ in a _Wild Mage_!” Jon retorted, pushing Claire backwards into the barrier. “That was _you_ , _Muggleborn!_ ”

Claire’s hand flew without thought, slapping Jon, _hard_. “She’s _not_ evil!” the grieving girl screamed. “She _saved_ us!” Abruptly, the fight went out of her and she sagged against violet magic. “Oh, gawd, she saved us and now she’s dead.”

Against her back, the magic pulsed, as if trying to comfort her. But nothing could make it better.

Her friend, her hero, her adopted cousin…was dead.

And she still had to tell her Dad.

* * * * *

Fawkes glanced up from his latest pilfered meal of fruits, berries, and a few lemon drops at the anguished wail of a bird. A fellow _phoenix_. Suffering and in pain. The red and gold phoenix abandoned his meal without hesitation, flaming away to the source of the cry.

* * * * *

The message came through just as Wordy was about to muscle a convenient window open. He stared at the text, then slowly shook his head. No. No. _No._ Not this, anything but this.

“Wordy? Wordy?”

No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening; how had she even _gotten_ here? Why would she come _here_ , when she _knew_ the risks, _knew_ the danger. But he knew why – for his daughter. For Claire’s sake.

“Wordy, what’s wrong?”

Mute, he held the phone out to his Sergeant. Watched him read the message, watched him pale. Watched him _shatter_.

“Alanna…”

He caught the stocky man before he could collapse, wrapping his arms around the raw, newborn grief as he struggled with his own.

Alanna Calvin was dead.

* * * * *

In the heart of the volcano, he found the chick in her ashes, fluttering, bald, and helpless. Violet hued and familiar. Glancing around, the elder phoenix sensed the fading dark magic and realized what had happened. **_Well done, hatchling, well done,_** he chirped, winging down to the tiny nestling.

She couldn’t respond beyond a feeble cry, but rubbed her beak against his claws as he carefully picked her up.

**_Come along, then,_** Fawkes soothed, **_I will take you home, hatchling._** Focusing on where he knew she hailed from, he flashed away.

* * * * *

Wordy’s head shot up as fire boomed; he yanked his Sergeant away reflexively. Then shock reverberated as he stared at the red and gold phoenix hovering in front of them. Gray eyes bulged and he forced Sarge around, to see what _he_ was seeing.

* * * * *

The fire had _burned_ , scorching through her at the last as she dropped it into the heart of the volcano. She’d heard herself screech agony and known it for the end. Even a phoenix is not immortal. Only to live through that terrible pain, left completely helpless and far from home.

Chirping, she struggled to flap infant wings, trying to gather her magic enough to shift. Nothing. She was tapped out. It would be at least a _day_ before she could use magic again, the price for wrestling with Fiendfyre and _surviving_. By the time Fawkes arrived, she’d depleted what few reserves she still had left.

At the familiar feel of fire washing over her and carrying them away, she opened her eyes, peering as best she could through Fawkes’ talons. A gasp of shock reverberated, followed by a soft, “Alanna?”

Fawkes deposited her in a pair of hands; she lifted her head, cheeping up at whoever it was, trusting her fellow phoenix hadn’t delivered her to harm.

“Can you shift back?” another voice asked.

She shook her head.

One finger rubbed the top of her bald chick head. “Take mine,” he whispered.

It wasn’t quite how it _should_ work, but the intention was enough. Power surged within her, tinted scarlet, and she _pulled_ on her real form.

* * * * *

Alanna _glowed_ , then _blurred_ ; Wordy sidestepped and caught his Sergeant before he could fall, grunting as he found himself supporting two rather than just one. It took a minute or so for Sarge to regain his balance and even when he did, Wordy held his position, gently squeezing his boss’s shoulders.

“How?”

The voice that responded was too _young_ to be Alanna, but it was _her_ voice. “Phoenixes are fire birds, Uncle Greg.”

“You bet you could survive it,” Wordy breathed, moving around his Sarge.

She _was_ younger; a twelve-year-old girl gazed up at him. “I bet that I could get it away from here,” she replied. Leaning her head into Sarge, she added, “I took it to a volcano.” Her cheeks flushed. “But it was too much. I Burned.”

Wordy blinked, puzzled, but Sarge’s hazel eyes lit with understanding. “A Burning Day,” he whispered, right before he crushed her to his chest in a hug. “Don’t you _dare_ scare me like that again, Alanna Victoria Calvin.”

“I had to, Uncle Greg. I couldn’t let Claire get hurt.”

Part of Wordy wanted to feel resentment, but he couldn’t. Saving Claire and losing Alanna wouldn’t have just broken his boss. It would’ve broken _him_ , too.

* * * * *

Greg swung Alanna up in his arms, cradling his niece close. Beside him, Wordy reported, “Guys, Claire texted me again; Fiendfyre’s out.”

“Out?” Sam demanded. “Just like that?”

“No, Sam,” Greg broke in before Wordy could elaborate. “ _Mia nipote_ was able to get rid of it with her phoenix form.”

Jules gasped. “What’s _Alanna_ doing here?” she demanded.

The two men paused; that…was a very good question. Wordy huffed a sigh, reluctant even as he spoke. “Later, Jules, okay? Bottom line, she’s here and she stopped the Fiendfyre.”

“What, she put it out?” Lou asked, confused.

“Negative,” Wordy replied. “She’s all right, but she…” He trailed off, searching for a tactful way to put it. “She, um, kinda…teleported the Fiendfyre to a volcano…”

“Wouldn’t she have to be _in_ the fire to do that?” Sam questioned shrewdly.

Constable and Sergeant traded awkward glances. “Yes,” Wordy confirmed miserably. “Whoever finds Claire first needs to tell her ‘Lanna’s alive.”

“And deal with our subjects,” Greg added, hazel narrowing in ill-concealed fury.

“No.” At the faint declaration, both men looked down. “They’re dead,” Alanna whispered. “Rick…he cast Fiendfyre after I threw Kyle into a wall; he thought I’d killed him.”

Parker swallowed harshly against the surge of horror in his gut. “The Fiendfyre…?”

“Yeah,” Alanna confirmed, her voice still soft and aching. “It rebounded off my shield. But I couldn’t hold it, not forever.”

“What did you think you were doing?” Wordy questioned, an edge of anger in the words.

“Claire,” Alanna whispered. “She texted me, begging for help. Her friend wouldn’t leave his brothers behind. I thought…I thought I could just get them to a classroom and then they’d be safe. Mad, but safe.”

Greg rested his chin on the top of her head, ignoring the scent of ash in his niece’s hair. “Then the subjects showed up.”

A faint nod. “They broke down the door. I swear I was just going to hold them off long enough for help to get there.” Tears gleamed. “I didn’t mean to kill them.”

“Shhh, _mia nipote_ , shhh, you didn’t kill them.”

“You were protecting everyone in that room,” Wordy agreed. “If your shield hadn’t reflected that attack…”

“Hey, Wordy…”

Greg frowned at the interruption and the tentative tone. “Spike?”

“Can you guys get ‘Lanna up here?” Spike asked sheepishly. “Her shield’s still up.” There was a faint glow in Alanna’s eyes and the bomb tech yelped. “Never mind, Boss.”

* * * * *

Lou bit back a scowl as he guided Alex Amesbury to his boss and Alanna; the sixth year had _demanded_ to speak with ‘Heiress Calvin’, adding that his father could make Lou’s life _very_ unpleasant if he refused. While Lou rather doubted that Lord Amesbury could really do anything to a techie Auror, Neal had given him a slightly panicked look, mixed with pleading.

Gesturing the spoiled brat behind him to a halt – _this_ was Lisa’s Auror-wannabe brother? – Lou poked his head into the combination command center/interview room. “Boss, got an Alex Amesbury who wants to talk to ‘Lanna.”

“Move, Auror.”

Alanna stiffened at the dismissive tone, lifting her chin haughtily. “Auror Young,” she replied, every inch the rank-conscious, imperious pureblood. “Please inform this _half-blood_ that if he wishes to speak to me, he should treat those I regard as _family_ with greater respect.” Violet narrowed. “And that his brother should know better than to insist on going _towards_ danger.”

Alex pushed past Lou before he could even react, scowling. “My brother was simply trying to help.”

“By putting himself and his two friends in _danger_ ,” Alanna retorted, propping her hands on hips.

“I believe _you_ did that.”

“Lou, he’s done,” the Boss growled. “Get him out of here.”

The arrogance vanished. “No, please, wait!”

“What do you want, Amesbury?” ‘Lanna demanded. “You made your opinion of me and my brother _perfectly_ clear; we’re the scum of the Earth for thinking Muggle parents should be able to see their kids compete at school, just like _your_ father can. And never mind that your mother _was_ a Muggleborn.”

The less-lethal specialist stiffened – _this_ was Lisa’s _brother_? He was _nothing_ like her.

“I need your help.”

“With _what_?” the redhead snipped at her fellow redhead – though Alex was several shades darker.

“Finding my sister.”

The room stilled and Alanna’s expression turned considering. Calculating. “Your sister?” she asked, as if she didn’t know perfectly well who Alex was talking about.

Alex’s reply was slow, as if each word had been dragged from the depths. “My sister; she left the wizarding world to be with her Muggle boyfriend. Father tried for months to find her; we didn’t even know she was still _alive_ until the boyfriend wrote me.”

Playing with her hair, Alanna nibbled on her lip. “Did you write back?”

Shaking his head, Alex said, “I gave the letter to Father; he wrote the scum back, demanding to know where Lisa was, but the coward never replied.”

Behind the _brat_ , Lou ground his teeth; he remembered that letter. Intimidation, threats, plus an attempt to _bribe_ Lisa’s home address out of him. After some consideration, the constable had simply tucked the letter away and told Lisa that Alex had gone running to their father. Lisa had been devastated.

Sarge’s face was blank, his negotiator mask firmly in place, and Alanna merely nodded thoughtfully, outwardly unconcerned. Darn, she was getting good at mimicking the Boss. “And if I help you find either one of them? What will you do?”

Alex frowned in confusion. “Tell Father of course. He can bring her home.”

“Is that what _she_ wants?” Alanna pressed. “She _is_ older than you, yes?”

“Well, yes, but the Muggle world is _dangerous_. She needs to come _home_.”

“So,” Alanna purred, in a calm tone that fooled neither Lou nor her uncle, “you would force a young woman, your _sister_ , out of a world _she_ has chosen and back into a home she _voluntarily_ left, to keep her _safe_.”

“Maybe a Wild Mage like _you_ can survive in the Muggle world,” Alex spat. “My _sister_ cannot!”

“Get out.”

The pureblood’s eyes narrowed when Alex didn’t move.

“Are you deaf? I said get out. And for the record, it’s _not_ because you insulted me, my uncle, and the entire ‘Muggle’ world.” Alanna stalked up to the older boy, jabbing him in the chest. “It’s because you don’t _respect_ your sister enough to take what _she_ wants into account.”

Alex puffed up. “You would leave a _defenseless_ woman in _danger_?”

“Constable Young, I believe Mr. Amesbury is done here.” Sarge’s tone simmered, hazel just as unforgiving as his niece’s violet. As Lou reached for the young man’s shoulder, his boss added, “And have a word with Mr. Amesbury’s younger brother before Constable Wordsworth finishes up with Claire.”

“Copy, Sarge.” Lou understood what the Boss hadn’t said. _Make sure Wordy doesn’t get a shot at the kid who put his daughter in danger._

* * * * *

“Boss?”

Greg frowned at the dispatcher’s cautious tone. “Winnie?”

“Alanna is with you, sir, right? She’s not missing?”

A faint smile broke through. “That’s correct, Winnie. Missing persons report from St. John’s?”

“Yes, sir, plus…”

“Plus?” Greg prodded.

Winnie’s wince was audible. “Sir, the school nurse saw a message on Alanna’s phone about a school shooting.”

Greg closed his eyes. Blast. “Just spit it out, Winnie.”

“Kira figured it out. She’s the one who wanted me to ask if Alanna was with you.”

He should’ve known. Kira was smart and she’d been on the edge of several magic-side events and hot calls. This call included. “Copy that, Winnie. Ask Kira if she’s willing to stay at the barn until I get back. I’ll handle it from there.”

“Yes, sir,” Winnie acknowledged.

“Alanna!”

A smile broke through as Claire Wordsworth practically tackled Alanna, the two girls currently about the same age and size. Greg glanced up at Wordy; the big constable stood in the doorway, relief evident. As the girls chattered at each other, the Sergeant edged by them to his subordinate’s side.

“How is she?”

Gray darkened. “She cried all the way down, Sarge. Wouldn’t take my word for it that Alanna was alive.”

“Everyone in the classroom saw the fight?”

Wordy jerked a nod. “Teacher made a smart remark about Wild Mages; Sam had to drag Spike outta the room. Then Jules chewed her out.” The big constable dug in a pocket and brought his hand up; Greg sucked in a breath at the half-melted arrowhead, its runes distorted and misshapen. “Sarge. If Alanna hadn’t done what she did, we’d have lost fourteen in just that one classroom. More if the Fiendfyre had gotten to any other classrooms up there.”

“And Claire’s friend?”

The big constable shook his head. “Friends actually. She’s ticked off at both of ‘em, Sarge. Apparently, they had a few things to say before Spike and Jules got there.”

“Let me guess. Wild Mages are evil and Claire’s a Muggleborn?”

Another jerked nod. “Are you going to ground her?”

Blinking, Greg considered the question and opened his mouth to respond. Then his brain caught up and he gave Wordy a sidelong look, cocking a brow. “Why?”

The brunet shrugged. “If you ground Alanna, then Claire’s getting grounded, too. Claire’s the one who sent her a text message, asking for help.”

Ah. Sighing, Greg replied, “Yes, Wordy, I’m grounding her. I’m glad it worked out…” He grimaced, but Wordy nodded understanding. “But that was a huge risk she took, Wordy. It still is, until I can get her out of here.”

“Copy that, Sarge.” Abruptly, the big man frowned. “Hey, why is she twelve again? Did she get de-aged?”

Parker shook his head. “Burning Day.”

“Huh?”

Running a hand over his head, Greg elaborated, “Phoenixes can go through Burning Days. They explode into flame, die, and are reborn from the ashes.”

Gray widened. “And Alanna went through a Burning Day,” he breathed. “That’s why she was just a chick.”

The Sergeant inclined his chin. “My guess is she reverted to the age when her Animagus form got unlocked again. As her Animagus form ‘grows up’, she should too. A week, two, maybe three, and she’ll be back to her usual age.”

A comfortable silence emerged, both officers watching Claire burrow into the older girl’s side, sniffling. Wordy stirred, but Greg shook his head, indicating Alanna speaking quietly in Claire’s ear.

“Auror Sergeant Parker?”

Both men turned towards the Junior Auror in the doorway. “Yes, Neal?” Greg inquired.

Neal fidgeted. “The Deputy Headmistress is demanding you remove your niece,” he informed them, gaze and tone dejected. “Senior Auror Simmons says we can handle the rest of the cleanup.”

“Copy that, Neal. Wordy?”

“I’ll let the rest of the team know, Sarge.”

Before the men could move, Neal cleared his throat. “Can I…can I talk to her?”

Alanna glanced up, sensing the attention. Her uncle studied the young Auror, then gestured him forward.

Neal approached, nerves apparent in wide green eyes, tiny fidgets, and the deep, fortifying breath he drew in. “Heiress Calvin?”

Alanna rose to her feet, graceful even with soot-stained clothing, complete with quiver and bow. Inclining her head, she replied, “What can I do for you, Junior Auror Queenscove?”

“Thank you.”

Startled, she jerked violet eyes upwards, shock evident. “What?”

The Junior Auror bowed deferentially. “I saw that classroom, Heiress Calvin, and so did my fellow Aurors. We know what’s owed to the House of Calvin.”

“Wait, what?” Wordy questioned. “What do you mean, what’s owed?”

Neal turned, emerald gaze sorrowful. “Fiendfyre could’ve brought this whole school down, Auror Wordsworth. The more it consumes, the stronger it gets, until its unstoppable. I know Auror Young was trying to get everyone down here out of the building, but no one would’ve gone. Not until it was too late.”

“That’s because she’s a hero,” Claire piped up, “Not a monster.”

Alanna flushed, ducking her head to hide behind her hair. “I’m grounded, aren’t I, Uncle Greg?”

“Yes, _mia nipote_ , you absolutely are.”

“And so are _you_ , Claire,” Wordy tacked on.

Neal’s eyes widened in surprise and he looked between the girls and their guardians, expecting protest. When none was voiced, he stared helplessly at Greg, question evident.

“Alanna may be a Wild Mage,” Greg explained gently, “But she’s still _my_ niece. And I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect her. Even punish her for saving lives.”

Understanding shone and Neal grinned, years dropping off him as he did so. “Funny,” he joked, “That makes her sound like an ordinary teenage girl.”

Alanna beamed and her uncle replied, “That’s because she _is_ , Auror Queenscove.”


	7. Epilogue

“Did Lance know what you were doing?”

The twelve-year-old shook her head. “No, Uncle Greg; it happened too fast.”

Greg eyed his niece a moment, then nodded once, accepting her answer. “All right. Can you show Kira your magic?”

To his surprise, she shook her head again. “I’m tapped out, Uncle Greg. For a couple days at least.”

The stocky man froze. “Do you need to go to St. Mungo’s?” he asked, worry shining.

Alanna cocked her head to the side, considering. “Don’t think so. I just have to wait it out.” Brightening, she pointed out, “ _You_ could show her your Animagus form.”

“No, _mia nipote_ , I couldn’t. I really couldn’t.” If he had his way, he would _never_ transform again; the gryphon was simply too wild, too dangerous – and even _more_ of a threat now that it could fly. “I’ll see if Commander Locksley wants to do the honors.”

“M’kay,” Alanna agreed, but a chill ran up his spine at the speculative gleam in violet eyes. He had a nasty feeling his niece _wasn’t_ going to forget his refusal to transform.

* * * * *

“They’re alive.”

Lisa sobbed in relief as she ran into his arms, hugging him with all her might.

Lou hugged her back, relishing the feel of her. “Jack’s in St. Mungo’s, but he’ll be all right. He took two curses trying to protect his classmates.”

He felt her sharp inhale. “The others?”

Shaking his head, Lou replied, “Not a scratch. Alex even tried to get ‘Lanna to help him find you.”

His girlfriend stiffened. “He’ll tell Father, Lou.”

“Relax, Lis, ‘Lanna chewed him out and sent him packing. Are you sure _he_ wants to be an Auror?”

Lisa burrowed into him. “He did when he was little,” she whispered. “Before Mama died.” Keen dark eyes lifted, studying him. “What else happened, Lewis?”

A wince destroyed any hope of keeping it from her. “Jonathan…he kinda…dragged Claire Wordsworth into trouble.”

“Trouble?”

The constable nodded glumly. “He wouldn’t leave without his brothers, so he, Claire, and another friend of theirs ended up _way_ too close to the bad guys, Lis. ‘Lanna was able to keep them and a whole mess of other kids alive, but…” He swallowed hard, dropping his chin and closing his eyes. “Lis, they could’ve died. _Claire_ could’ve died – ‘Lanna almost did anyway.”

“Is your teammate mad at me?”

“What? No, Lis, no.” Lou tucked his girlfriend under his chin. “He’s mad at _Jon_ , not you, girl. Gonna be awhile before Word forgives him for almost gettin’ Claire killed.” After a few moments of silence, he asked, “Do you want to go see Jack?”

She shuddered against him, muted sobs echoing. She wanted to go, he could tell. She wanted it _so_ bad, but… “Father will be there, Lou.”

He cradled her and hefted her up enough to carry her over to his couch. “That’s it, girl, cry it out. I’m right here.”

He wished he could give Lisa her family back, but he couldn’t. They had to be willing first. But he could stay with her until her latest bout of grief was spent. She wouldn’t even have to go home – his guest bedroom had long ago become _her_ spare bedroom.

“Cry it out, Lis,” he whispered, rubbing her back.

* * * * *

Wordy carried his daughter inside their home, still shuddering inside at how _close_ it had been. Claire was still sniffling every so often and her head was tucked in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. She’d seen people _die_ , seen some of her classmates scattered like ragdolls and even watched as fire engulfed two instantly. He’d _never_ wanted his daughter to live with memories like _that_.

Had he made a mistake? Maybe they were wrong, maybe magic wasn’t worth it. Maybe the magical _world_ wasn’t worth it.

“Kevin?”

“Shel,” he breathed, looking up and meeting his wife’s horrified gaze.

“Kevin, what _happened_?”

Forcing the words out took every ounce of his will. “There was a shooting at the school today, Shel.”

Eighteen dead, two of them the shooters. Eighteen families left grieving and screaming for answers. It had nearly been nineteen – or more.

Shelley was next to them before he could blink, hugging both him and Claire fiercely, her face buried in Claire’s side and her nose nuzzling his cheek. “Thank you, Kevin.”

“For what?” he managed to croak out.

“For bringing her home.”

Home. Wordy leaned into his wife, breathing in his family’s unique scent.

* * * * *

Commander Locksley regarded the newspaper sourly, wishing its headline would change. Figured. Given a choice between blaming Muggleborns or blaming the Wild Mage who’d _stopped_ the carnage, the Oracle had gone with the latter. Sighing, the witch dropped the offending newspaper into the bin next to her desk, wishing she dared incinerate the thing.

“Matches?”

She glanced up at Nathan, arching a brow at her Auror. “What matches?”

He shook his head and dug a small cardboard packet out of his pocket. “Matches,” he repeated, holding it up. “They light annoying newspapers on fire.”

A faint smile appeared. “The Muggle solution to the _Incendio_ Charm?”

“More or less,” the blond agreed, setting the offering on her desk.

“Report.”

He winced. “Eighteen dead, including the…shooters. Of the _victims_ , one was a Muggleborn, nine half-blood, and the rest pureblood.”

Bugger. “How loud are the families screaming?”

“They want Alanna Calvin’s head.”

“Not happening,” Locksley hissed. “She _saved_ an entire _roomful_ of wizards from these monsters.”

“They believe the newspaper,” Simmons explained simply. “Young Neal has an idea, though.”

“Oh? Pray tell.” Anything to avoid having to tell Parker his charges needed to skip town, one step ahead of a lynch mob.

Simmons smiled tightly. “Neal’s father knows the Oracle’s editor. Neal says they’re old friends.”

“Go on.”

“We write our _own_ article and run it in tomorrow’s paper. Front page, above the fold.”

Interesting. “You would be willing?” Locksley arched a brow as she spoke, skewering her Auror with a partial glare. His relationship with Team One and – by extension – the Muggle world tended to run rather cold with occasional hot spurts.

Black eyes met hers. “Neal reminded me we owe her a life debt. Team One doesn’t have a clue, but we _know_ how destructive Fiendfyre can be. She knows, too, but she won’t tell.”

Locksley closed her eyes in solemn agreement. Of all the Latin magic known, Fiendfyre was one of the spells that came the _closest_ to the Old Religion. By Morgana and the Morrigan, the Fiendfyre had nearly _burned_ through an Old Religion shielding spell. Wild, chaotic, and uncontrollable, the only reason Fiendfyre _wasn’t_ an Unforgivable was because no _sane_ wizard used it.

When it _was_ used, the body count was usually…catastrophic. Only _twice_ in recent history had that _not_ been the case. The Battle of Hogwarts…and today. In the case of Hogwarts, the school had been spared and only the caster had died, but the Room of Requirement had been utterly destroyed. But _today_ … Only two deaths – both of them ‘subjects’. The school had taken _minor_ damage – easily repairable with a bit of house-elf labor and a new coat of paint.

A _Wild Mage_ had done that. A _Wild Mage_ had risked her life to protect those who hated and feared her. And yet the purebloods would blame her for the deaths, for the shooting – for being a _hero_. Better to blame the Wild Mage than the Muggleborns – _Muggleborns_ were _far_ more populous and potentially dangerous.

“What headline did you have in mind?”

A sheaf of parchment dropped on her desk. “Giles lent me _quite_ an _interesting_ diary; did you know the Hogwarts Founders met two Wild Mages – and one of them saved their lives?”

Staring at the headline, Locksley shook her head.

_The Battle For Justice – From Corus to Toronto_

_~Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the latest story...well, as much as you can when a school shooting is involved - although Alanna got to strut her stuff! As always, I adore comments and cherish those of you who are willing to take the time to leave them.
> 
> In other news, we will be moving on to our next story, "Son of The Fox," which starts Tuesday, June 30th 2020.
> 
> On a side note, I know I've been complaining about my job - a lot - but I made a mistake on Wednesday that I'm afraid may cost me my job. I was asked to provide an email chain on an issue I was investigating, but what I did not realize is that the email chain included sensitive information that shouldn't have been sent out by the person who included it. I took the information off the issue as soon as I was alerted to the problem, but it's still considered a compliance violation, so I'm afraid I'm going to get in trouble.
> 
> My parents have reassured me that a simple mistake probably won't result in me being fired, but I'm still worried and I would very much appreciate prayer. I may not like this job, but I don't want to be fired either. That would look very bad as I attempt to find a new job.
> 
> So please pray that this mistake will not cost me my job and that I would have greater wisdom in dealing with work issues of all shapes and sizes in the future. Also please pray that I would have discernment in knowing when to reach out for help, even if the people I'm reaching out to are just as busy or busier than I am. I'm struggling with that at the moment as I know I probably need help on some different work issues, yet I also know that those with the knowledge to help are extremely busy.
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed and See you on the battlefield!


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